


how great of a gift

by anyabarnes



Series: whumptober 2019! [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Coping, Deaf Character, Deaf Clint Barton, Explosions, Gen, Whumptober, Whumptober 2019, author is not deaf and does not know what it is like, hearing loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-22 05:07:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20868680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anyabarnes/pseuds/anyabarnes
Summary: Clint doesn't know how to cope without his hearing.He doesn't think he ever will.





	how great of a gift

**Author's Note:**

> PROMPT: EXPLOSIONS
> 
> day 2 of whumptober woohoo !!!
> 
> side note: i am not deaf! please please please alert me if there is anything in here that is unrealistic/false or offensive :)

Ringing. That’s all he can hear. 

It bounces around in his skull like a ping-pong ball, hitting off one edge of the bone and slamming into another. He’s shaking-or at least he thinks he is, he can’t_ really _tell- rubble and asphalt pressing into his arms. He thinks he’s bleeding. 

Bucky leans over him, waving his hands. He moves his mouth, but Clint can’t really hear him over the sound of constant, head-splitting_ ringing_. Clint just smiles, pushing himself up on his arms. 

He has to hold on to Bucky for help up. It’s like his feet aren’t wired to his brain, he’s moving but he can’t move _right. _He grits his teeth in frustration. He holds on to the wall as he walks over to his bow, slinging it over his shoulder. Bucky taps his shoulder, face laced with concern. 

_Armor okay? _Clint thinks he sees Bucky mouth, but his head is ringing too much to really tell. He just smiles and nods, pulling an arrow from his quiver. He lines it up with his bow and shoots at the giant monster across the street. 

For the first time in his life, he misses. 

\- 

He can’t hear anything. 

He hasn’t been able to hear anything since the fight when he got thrown aside by an explosion. He knows he should say something to Bruce, but he doesn’t want to bother Bruce. Lord knows the team already views him as a mess, no need to pile anything more on their plates. 

He doesn’t want to be a burden. 

He knows that if he tells them that_ he can’t fucking hear_ it will be so much more than just that. They’ll all have to learn some form of sign language to accommodate him, and he’ll just be piling more on their already overflowing plate. He’ll have to take money from Tony to be able to find a pair of hearing aids that actually work for him-that will be way too fucking expensive, there is _no way _he is doing that. 

He won’t be a burden. 

He _won’t._

\- 

It’s hard-scratch that-it’s nearly fucking impossible to not be able to hear. He never knew how heavily the world focused on hearing until he _couldn’t. _

He found he can still hear things-but only if they are way too fucking loud. When’s he up in his apartment alone, the TV is turned up to full volume as he intensely follows along with the characters’ lips. He can hear as the train screeches to a halt, but only slightly, the way one would hear a swing squeaking on a playground. He’s made JARVIS turn up the volume of _everything_ in his apartment, absolutely positive everyone around him is able to hear when the coffee finishes brewing. 

It’s a shame he can’t. 

A message pops up on his phone-JARVIS’ new way of alerting him-telling him the team has invited him down to movie night. He grits his teeth. He knows they are getting suspicious of him, there is no way they aren’t. He’s been watching their lips whenever they're talking to him (not that that is happening often-he’s practically cut off contact from the rest of the world because he’s too scared to be a burden). They’ve needed to tap him to get his attention (that he _hates,_ feeling like he’s so disconnected from the rest of the world that he can’t even be part of their conversations), shooting him weird looks whenever they think he isn’t looking. 

He’s always looking. He’s too scared of being left out. 

He makes his way down to the common room, hand pressed against the side of the elevator to stop himself from falling. 

His balance has been really off lately. 

The team stares at him as he walks into the room, Natasha mouthing something to him and patting the spot next to her. 

“Hey all,” he tries to say. The words roll out of his mouth like honey, thick and disgusting. It comes out slurred and murmured. He can’t control it, it’s just how he talks now. He hates it. 

He sits down next to Natasha, facing the screen. He can’t tell what’s going on-he just watches as the characters run around on screen dodging explosions left and right. He cringes as a man gets thrown aside by the blast, suddenly feeling the sharp asphalt digging into the sides of his arm and the loud, loud ringing banging around in his head and he can’t focus on anything but the ringing and the asphalt and all he can smell is the smoke and gunpowder- 

Natasha taps his shoulder, concern written in the crease of her eyebrows and the wrinkle of her eyes. She mouths something to him, and he just shrugs. She looks over his shoulder and glances at Bucky and then back at him. He curls his shoulders into his body. 

He wishes he had never come down to watch the movie. 

He stares at the screen blankly, an empty laugh coming out of his mouth whenever he feels Natasha’s body shake next to his. He pulls the strings of his hoodie tight around his face, not caring if he looks weird. 

He wants to go back up to his room. 

He burrows himself deeper into the cushions of the couch, biting his lip hard. He can’t tell what’s going on around him-he_ can’t_-everything just seems _off_. He feels so out of place watching Tony joke around with Steve, watching Bucky and Natasha snark with each other. He knows he’ll never have that again. 

The team will probably want him gone once they realize he can’t hear. He’s a liability, he _knows_ that. They aren’t all going to learn sign language just for him. Tony won’t pay for him to get hearing aids. He’ll be kicked out on the street with nowhere to go, completely lost in a world so reliant on hearing. 

He pulls the edge of his sweatshirt over his hands. He isn’t really focused on anything, just the constant dullness that fills his head, drumming quietly underneath everything. He misses it, he really does; he misses being able to hear the birds in the morning, he misses the noise of traffic, he misses Tony and Steve bickering with each other early in the morning. 

He misses it all. 

\- 

“_Clint, we need you to come on this mission,_” Steve explains. Clint glances up at his eyes once he’s done talking, then right back down at his lips. He’s gotten better at lipreading, so good he can practically do it without having to think twice about what the person is saying. Steve is easy, anyways. He speaks clearly, and that reflects right back in the way he talks. 

He also is now fairly eloquent in sign language, but no one needs to know that. 

“I _can’t_, Steve,” Clint says. His voice still feels muffled, but after hours and hours of practicing in the mirror, he thinks he comes off as just fine. Steve’s shoulders drop. 

“_There’s no one else to come with us. Natasha’s out in Europe, and Tony’s out of commission_,” Steve explains, waving his hands around. “_It’s just going to be you, me, Bucky, and Bruce. We can’t do this mission with just the three of us_.” 

Steve motions to the two other men sitting in the room. Bucky is look up at him expectantly and turns to say something to Steve. Clint feels the tips of his ears turning red. He knows they are talking about him he knows he knows he knows- 

“_Clint, please_,” Bucky says. “_We need you.”_ Bucky’s lips are pursed together, and he looks so absolutely and completely_ done._

“You can do this mission without me just fine,” Clint says, turning around to leave. Bucky places a hand on his shoulder. Clint clenches his jaw. Of fucking course Bucky has picked up on his problem of not noticing people are talking to him unless it’s direct. His face burns with embarrassment as he turns back around to face the three men. 

“_Why won’t you come with us? What’s wrong Clint?_” Bucky faces him head-on, staring him directly in the eyes. 

Clint doesn’t look at his eyes. 

“Nothing’s wrong. I just don’t want to go,” Clint says. This is probably the longest time he has talked to the team since the accident. His hands are shaking as he shoves them into his pockets. 

“_You’re not telling us something, Clint. You’ve been off for the past three weeks. What’s going on_?” Bucky presses. Clint can’t do this anymore. He can’t and he won’t. He just wants to stop lying to them, to stop lying to_ himself,_ he just wants to be him and to stop lying and to not have to worry- 

“I can’t fucking _hear_, that’s what's been going on. I can’t fucking hear, and it’s so fucking hard. I haven’t been able to since three _fucking _weeks ago,” Clint spits. “So _yeah_, maybe I am pretty fucking useless.” He turns around, pushing the door open. 

“You guys will do better without me anyways.” 

He leaves the room, head ringing.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! leave a kudo and a comment if you would like :)
> 
> check out more on my tumblr @anyabarnes! my inbox is always open, so if you need someone to talk to about anything, literally anything, please drop in! i am here for everyone!
> 
> make sure you take a break if you haven't in a while. get up, get a drink of water, and grab yourself a snack. take a shower and maybe pick up a few things around your room/house. do a load of laundry if you haven't in a while! you are loved so so much <3


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